Nong nodded tearfully.
I asked her about Klaus. ‘He help my sister. He bought her a laptop and gave her money. But she doesn’t see him any more.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘He very jealous. Ask my sister about other men all the time. Now she just want to be on her own so she can study.’
I asked her where Nut was living but she said that she didn’t know. I didn’t think she was lying. ‘But she comes to see you, right?’
Nong nodded. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘You real policeman?’ she asked.
‘Real enough to put you in prison,’ I said harshly. I could see that she was starting to realise that it was unusual for a farang policeman to be operating in Thailand, and even more unusual for him to be working alone. I told her that I’d be back with more questions and left.
I figured that it wouldn’t be long before Nong was on the phone to Nut. If I was lucky, Nut might phone Klaus to see if he knew what was going on. And even if she didn’t, tracking Nong’s phone records might give me Nut’s new home number.
I phoned Klaus and arranged to meet him at Starbucks again. This time I got there first and I had an espresso waiting for him. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke as I ran through everything that I’d discovered. He looked hurt when I told him that Nut had changed her name, and I could see the anger burning in his eyes when I ran through what I’d found out about Miles Beattie. I told him what Nong had said about Klaus being jealous and he nodded with tight lips. ‘Ve argued sometimes,’ he said. ‘There vere phone calls on her mobile in the middle of the night, times ven she disappeared for a few days. Said she was with her family and I guess I suspected the worse.’
‘Even though you were supporting her? I guess you were annoyed.’
Klaus shrugged. ‘I know the way these girls are. But I had hoped that Nut vas different.’
‘What about the mobile? Did you call again?’
‘I call her every day. Most times it’s switched off. When it’s on, she doesn’t answer.’
‘So what do you want me to do now?’
‘I vont you to find her. I vont to talk to her.’
I sipped my latte. If I had a baht for every time I’ve heard that, I’d have enough money to barfine every hooker in Patpong. I don’t know what it is about farangs and Thai girls. I’ve no doubt that if Klaus had met a German girl and she’d given him the runaround the way that Nut had, he’d have walked away without a moment’s hesitation. He’d paid her a monthly salary, given her a place to live, promised to marry her, and in return she ran away and changed her name. If it was me, I’d have just cut my losses. But then I wouldn’t have got into that situation in the first place. I’ve never seen the point in paying a woman to stay with you. If you’re paying them, they’re hookers. And why would any man want a hooker with him full-time. I know that Klaus wouldn’t want to hear that his beloved Nut was a prostitute, but she was taking money to live with him and if the cap fts, wear it, as my old grandmother used to say.
Then I had a brainwave. ‘How did you pay her?’ I asked.
He frowned. ‘Vot do you mean?’
‘You were giving her a lot of money. Did you give it to her by bank transfer or did you give her cash?’
‘Bank,’ he said.
‘Which bank?’
‘Bangkok Bank. In Silom.’
I grinned. I had a very good Thai friend who had contacts in most of the local banks who would happily give me all the information I wanted. For the right price, of course. I explained to Klaus that I could probably come up with Nut’s home address but it would mean 5,000 baht for my contact and another day’s retainer for me. He had his wallet out before I’d even finished the sentence. Klaus had it bad.
Klaus gave me the bank account details and on the way back to the office I phoned my friend. I gave him the information and stopped off at an ATM to transfer five thousand baht into his account. I hadn’t been back in the office for ten minutes when my mobile rang. Nut was living in the City Court apartment block on New Petchburi Road.
Game, set and match. Just as I was about to call Klaus with the good news, my phone rang. It was Klaus, and he was frantic. He’d just received a phone call from an American. The Yank didn’t say who he was but told Klaus that if he didn’t get out of Thailand he was a dead man. It could only have been Miles Beattie, and that opened up a whole can of worms. How had he found out about Klaus? And more importantly, did he know about yours truly?
I tried to calm him down. There was a good chance that he’d just found Klaus’s number by checking Nut’s phone records. It isn’t difficult, providing you know the right person to pay tea money to. And as Beattie was in law enforcement, he’d know the right people. Klaus told me that his phone was on a contract which was bad news because Beattie would also have Klaus’s address. I always use Pay-As-You-Go mobiles. And I change the SIM card every few months.
‘Vot’s going on, Varren?’ he asked.
I told him that I now had an address for Nut.
‘I must talk to her,’ said Klaus. ‘And I vont you to come with me.’
‘Why?’ I said.
‘Protection,’ he said.
I didn’t like the sound of that. If Beattie’s bite was as bad as his bark, who was going to protect me?
‘I vill pay you twenty thousand baht,’ he said. ‘Just to go with me while I talk to her.’ I said I’d see what I could do and that I’d call him back. I went back out to Petchburi Road and cased the apartment block. It was ten floors high and looked like a typical low-rent building, probably all studio flats, room for a bed and a sofa and a tiny bathroom with a toilet and shower. I was pretty sure by now that if Klaus and I turned up and rang her bell Nut would refuse to see us. And I didn’t think Klaus would want to be shouting through a locked door. And Klaus had already tried phoning.
I bought a carrier bag full of Chang Beer and walked over to the nearest group of motorcycle taxi drivers. There were half a dozen Isaan teenagers wearing orange vests playing checkers under a tattered beach umbrella and smoking Falling Rain cigarettes. I gave them the bag and showed them a photograph of Nut.
A couple of the guys recognized her and said that she usually left the building at eight o’clock in the morning and headed to a nearby bus station. As she wore a white shirt and black skirt band carrying a large shoulder bag, she was obviously on her way to university.
The next day, Klaus and I were outside the apartment block bright and early. I had an envelope containing 20,000 baht in my jacket pocket and a small can of mace in my trouser pocket, along with a brass knuckleduster that I usually had on my desk as a paperweight.
She walked out just after eight. Without make up and with her hair tied back, she didn’t look especially pretty, but the white shirt was tight and showed of her firm, full breasts and the skirt was a good six inches above her knees and it was clear she had one hell of a figure. Even so, Thailand is full of beautiful women and if I were Klaus I would have cut my losses long ago.
She froze when she saw Klaus and for a moment I thought she was going to turn and bolt back into the apartment block but then her shoulders sagged and the fight went out of her. Klaus put a hand on her shoulder and told her earnestly that he loved her and wanted to take care of her and that he couldn’t understand why she’d run away.
Nut listened, then shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m a bad girl.’
Her English was okay, good enough to talk to Klaus. He told her that he didn’t care what she’d done in the past, that he could take her to Hong Kong or Germany, he didn’t care if she had a boyfriend before. ‘Ich liebe dich,’ he said. ‘I love you.’
She started to cry. Passers-by started to pay attention, wondering why two big farangs were bullying a poor little Thai student. If we weren’t careful someone might call the police. Or decide to take matters into their own hands. I suggested that we adjourn to a nearby coffee shop.
While Klaus went to order our coffees, I spoke hurriedly to Nut in Thai. I told her that we knew that she was involved with Beattie and that he was involved in the production of pornographic DVDs. And I took a chance by
